Phenom
by paganpunk2
Summary: When both Wally and a top-rated group of aerialists come to Gotham on the same weekend, how can Dick have anything but fun? Largely bromance, especially in chapters two and three, but with a smattering of Bruce/Dick fluff. Part of The Spark in the Dark series.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: As I understand it, the final episode of Young Justice that aired earlier today was none to kind to fans of a certain speedster. As such, I thought a little brofic might be a nice way to pick some spirits back up. This story will be three chapters total, and is part of the Spark in the Dark universe. There's some Bruce/Dick fluff as well, but it's mostly Dick/Wally. Chapter two will be up inside of 24 hours. Happy reading!**

* * *

Dick dropped his backpack on the floorboards of the car as he climbed in. "Hey, Alfred!" he exclaimed.

"Hello, young sir," the butler gave him a warm look in the rearview mirror. _At least he's in a good mood this afternoon,_ he thought tersely. _The news I have to give him would have been far more difficult to deliver were he already in the midst of a bad day._ "How was school?" _It will wait another moment or two,_ he decided.

"Eh, it was okay," the twelve-year-old answered non-committally. "The usual." _Girls refused to talk to me, the captain of the football team called me a midget, et cetera, et cetera,_ he didn't see fit to add. _It d__oesn't matter, though, not today. _He bounced in his seat as they pulled into traffic. "…So, are we picking up Bruce? He said he was getting off early for the show." The billionaire had informed him a few days before that there was going to be a one-night-only performance by a group of renowned Chinese acrobats in Gotham, and the boy had begged to go. His pleas had been unnecessary, since three tickets had already been purchased, but Bruce had let him go on for a minute before revealing that fact.

"Ah…yes. There has been a slight change of events, I'm afraid."

He froze, his lips balanced on the edge of a deep pout. "…We're not going, are we?" The show had been all he'd been looking forward to ever since he heard about it. Even the prospect of his usual weekend patrols had dimmed a bit in importance compared to seeing fellow aerialists at play. _…What happened? I didn't get in trouble, so why aren't we going? Did they cancel or something? Maybe something big's going down, and Batman and Robin have a mission…_

"Now don't jump to conclusions too swiftly, Master Dick," Alfred instructed him. "Master Wayne will not be able to attend tonight's performance due to a last-minute business concern. Your ticket – and mine, for that matter – are not in jeopardy, however."

"Oh. Okay." He scrunched up his face for a moment, then gave a deep sigh. _…It sucks that Bruce can't make it, but…at least Alfred and I still can. I guess that's better than not going at all._ _But I really wanted to see it with Bruce. We've both been so busy lately. We haven't had a bad movie night since Christmas break… _"So what, did he turn the third ticket back in or something? Last I heard there was a huge waitlist for seats," he asked, hoping to distract himself.

"I'm not sure. He didn't mention anything about it."

"…Huh. Is he planning something?" The odds were against Alfred lying to him if he asked a direct question, he knew, and they were also very much in favor of the butler being in on anything Bruce might be concocting.

"Not to my knowledge, no. I've honestly no idea what he intends to do with it." _That is rather strange,_ he pondered. _I can't imagine him withholding the opportunity for someone else to go, but why keep the third ticket if he'll be otherwise occupied?_ "Perhaps he believes he'll be able to come partway through the show. Mind you, he didn't intimate that," he made clear. "It's pure speculation on my part."

"Hmm…yeah, I can see that. Weird that he wouldn't say anything if he thought he might make it, though." He wasn't entirely sure he believed that was Bruce's intention in keeping the third ticket, but he couldn't imagine what else the man might have up his sleeve, so he let it go. _I'll find out soon enough anyway,_ he supposed.

Leaving the topic to rest, they chatted amiably for the rest of the drive. As they passed into the foyer, they both heard the kitchen phone ringing. Dick flicked his shoes off in an instant and bolted for it, sliding across the last dozen feet of polished marble in his socks and snagging the receiver just as the final ring died out. "Hello?" he asked, giggling slightly as Alfred followed him in a much more sedate manner while muttering something about broken necks.

"Hey, chum. Did Alfred talk to you about tonight?"

"Yeah. He did. Business junk, huh?" _It's stupid. You're the CEO, can't you just send someone else? Or is this another Bruges-type thing?_

"Yeah," came sighed back. "Business junk."

"Are you going to make it partway through or something? He said you kept the third ticket." _Might as well ask him, so long as I'm on the phone with him anyway._

"I actually need to speak with Alfred about that. Is he there?"

"Yup. Here you go." He handed the phone to the butler, who motioned him to his usual seat at the breakfast bar and prepared to serve him his after-school snack. Dick made a show of pulling a textbook from his bag, but his ears were locked onto the conversation taking place without him.

"Yes, Master Wayne? Yes, a bit. No, we wondered that ourselves, actually…oh? Well, that would be a lovely gesture, sir. Not at all. No, I'm sure I can manage. Of course, sir. Not a word. Yes. Very well, Master Wayne. We shall see you later tonight. Goodbye."

"…Well? What did he say?" the boy asked, eyes wide and eager.

"He said that since it is Friday and much of your evening will be taken up with the show, he would like you to go to the cave and take a look at the file he left on the counter for you."

"Oh. Okay," he puzzled. "He didn't say anything about tonight, though?"

"Nothing that concerns you at this point, young sir, no." _Your involvement won't begin for, oh, another three minutes or so. I know you're disappointed that Master Wayne won't be able to join you, but I imagine that what he has planned instead will nearly make up for it. _Holding back a smile, the Englishman placed two cookies in a napkin and handed them over. "Here you are. I'm sorry you can't eat up here, but Master Wayne was adamant that you go straight downstairs."

"Uh…sure," he shrugged. Still trying to crack this new and tantalizing case, he made his way to the cave and flopped into a chair, ignoring the folder for the moment. _This is really strange. I mean, sending me down to look at a file is one thing, but he could at least let me __eat__ first. I know it can't be anything too serious, or he would have cancelled my going to the show tonight…no, he's definitely planning something, and I think he just brought Alfred in on it. 'Nothing that concerns you at this point…' what exactly does that __mean__?_

His train of thought was interrupted by the Zeta tube. "B03, Kid Flash." Dick whirled around in his chair, flying to his feet.

"…_Wally?_" he exclaimed as the redhead appeared.

"Hey, bro, what's up?" the speedster replied, zipping to his side and immediately offering his fist. The younger boy reached up to bump it with his own, still boggling.

"What…what's up? You're not in costume," he frowned. He knew that both Flash and KF occasionally traveled by Zeta without any sort of disguise, but it still bugged him when he saw it. _Bruce would __kill__ me if I did that,_ he shook his head. "Is something going on? Should I suit up, or…?"

"Dude, chillax," Wally laughed. "…Didn't Bruce tell you?"

"Tell me _what_?"

"He called Uncle Barry and said there was some big show you're super excited to go to tonight, and that he can't go all of a sudden. So…he thought you might like it if I went with you, instead," he beamed, "and then spent the night here and went home after tomorrow's JLA meeting."

"…_Bruce_ suggested all of that?"

"Yeah, like fifteen minutes ago. It was really last minute, but…here I am!" He dropped into the chair his best friend had abandoned a moment before. "So, what is this show, anyway?"

"…Give me one second, okay?" he held up a finger. _Well, that explains what he's doing with the third ticket,_ he thought deliriously.

"Sure," he allowed before beginning to spin himself around, going faster and faster until he was a dangerous-looking blur.

Not wanting to be within range if the pneumatics on the chair gave out and exploded, Dick walked a short distance away and pulled out his cell phone. Technically he was only supposed to use it for emergencies – _not like I have civilian friends other than Wally to run up the bill with, anyway,_ he'd laughed when Bruce told him that – but this seemed like a reasonable exception. The billionaire's number rang three times, and he was beginning to think he was going to have to leave a message when the call was picked up.

"…Dick?"

"Best. Guardian. _Ever_," was all he said back.

"You're welcome."

"I _thought_ you were up to something, I just didn't figure that it would be quite this awesome."

"…I'm sorry I can't make it to the show, kiddo. I was looking forward to it."

"I know. But…I understand. You've got work." _Always work. It's a good thing I don't do sports or drama or something, you'd probably never make it to see me._

"I promise we'll do something special together soon, all right?"

"Sure," he smiled knowingly. _You say that a lot, Bruce. It just doesn't actually happen much. But…you're an important person. Other people need you, too. I guess that's the price we pay._

"I'll be home very late tonight. Stay in after the show and have fun. Understand?"

_No patrol. Dang it. _He thought about trying to argue that Robin and KF could handle Gotham together for a night, but the idea of having that debate while speaking circuitously enough for a civilian line made his brain hurt. _Besides, he'll just say no,_ _so why tick him off?_ "I understand. We'll just watch horribly violent movies and play graphic video games while stuffing our faces with the junk food that Alfred pretends to have no idea exists within the walls of this house. Is that okay?"

"Only if you save me a Twinkie."

"…Wait, where are _those_ hidden?"  
"If you don't know, I'm not telling."

"Just for that, I won't save you one when we find them."

"Good luck with that." He paused. "There had better be one left, Dick. You know what it takes to smuggle those things in."

"I'll leave it on your pillow," he laughed. "…See you at breakfast, if we're not still up when you get home."

"You'd better not be. I expect you to go to bed at the regular weekend time."

"…But Wally's bedtime is later than mine."

"He can stay up. You can't."

"Not cool, Bruce."

"Would you prefer your normal _weekday_ bedtime, then?"

"No!" he squeaked. "That's like two hours earlier than weekends! No way!" He knew Bruce wouldn't really ground him, but it amused the billionaire to think of himself as a strict disciplinarian from time to time, and Dick generally played along. "See you at breakfast!" He hung up hurriedly, the chuckling coming from the other end of the line making him smirk. _Ha. Made you laugh over the phone. I win._

Wally saw him coming back and let his spin wind down. "So," the speedster asked, "what's the show about? It's not an opera, is it?" he asked distastefully. "Aunt Iris dragged us to an opera a few months ago. I was _so_ bored. I'm pretty sure Uncle Barry actually fell asleep a couple of times. She kept nudging him and looking annoyed."

"Some operas are okay," the dark-haired child opined. "Bruce takes me with him when he has an invitation to an opening night show. But this isn't opera," he clarified as Wally began to look nervous. "It's a special aerialist and acrobatics team from China. They just performed for the President, and they're doing a few shows around the country before they go home. The tickets are _super_ exclusive."

The older boy's mouth dropped open. "No freaking way! They did their act for the _President_, and now we're going to see it? That's so sweet!"

"I know, right?" Dick grinned. "I've been waiting all week for tonight."

"…Dude, being your friend has some _amazing_ perks, do you realize that?"

"Tell that to everyone I go to school with," he said sarcastically.

"You're still having trouble with that?" When they'd met three years before, both boys had been outcasts in their respective schools. Wally's troubles had melted away over the past twelve months, thanks largely to an unusually kind dose of puberty, but Dick's persisted. _I don't get why he isn't the complete king of that fancy place he goes to. I mean, I know he's a few years ahead in school, but that puts him in classes with kids just a little older than I am. __I__ think he's pretty effing cool, so why don't they? _He shook his head. "People are stupid, bro. Just…just don't let them get to you. You're awesome – not just because of all the wicked stuff you take your friends to do, by the way - and they're idiots for not seeing that. So…forget them."

Dick stood still for a second, a bit stunned. "I…thanks, Wally. That…that means a lot to me."

"I speak the truth," the redhead spread his hands and pulled a funny face. _Don't get all teary, okay? Laugh. I wasn't trying to make you cry, I just didn't want you to feel sad about not having other friends._ "So," he jumped up, towering over the other boy by at least four inches. "…Has Alfred-"

"Wally, did you go and get _taller_? _Again_?" Dick cut him off to accuse. He'd thought it was just his sneakers earlier, but looking down he realized that the redhead was wearing shoes with approximately the same sole thickness as his costume boots. _Crap, really?_

"Uhh…" He scratched the back of his neck, looking guilty. "…Yeah. Sorry. Aunt Iris hates it, too."

"I'm never going to catch up, seriously," he sighed dejectedly.

"You totally will. Just wait. You'll probably end up like a foot taller than I am," he encouraged.

"…Wals, my dad was all of five-nine. Your _aunt_ is taller than that. There's no way I'm passing you up. "

"…Well," he struggled, "…I don't care if you never grow another inch, okay?"

"Dude, ouch," Dick frowned.

"No, I meant…I meant it doesn't matter how tall you get, all right?"

"It does if you qualify as a midget," he scowled.

"You aren't a _midget_. And even if you were…you'd still be my best friend."

He looked away. "…Yeah, I know." _And I am so lucky for that, Wally. So lucky._

"So…are we cool?"

"We're cool." He shot him a smile. "…Thanks. I needed that. Some jerk called me short today, and I guess it got to me more than I realized."

"He's stupid. You aren't short, you're fun-size."

"…What?" he arched an eyebrow.

"I don't know, I saw that on a shirt. I thought it fit."

"Heh. I get it. Shirt…fit. Funny."

"And _that's_ why we're bros, bro," the redhead smirked. "Anyway…does Alfred have cookies upstairs, do you think?"

"Is water wet? Of course he does."

"Race you to the kitchen."

"Oh, yeah, _that's_ fair." The speedster was suddenly at the bottom of the stairs. "…Are you insane? Barry already said he's cutting your feet off if you melt through another pair of sneakers. I was there, I heard him. He sounded serious."

"Then I guess you'd better catch me before that happens," he smirked as Dick trudged over.

"Tag. You're it," he mock-punched the older boy's arm when he reached him. "Ready for normal people mode?"

"Boring old normal people mode activated," Wally sighed.

"Normal people get cookies."

"...Yeah, okay. You win. I can sacrifice speed for cookies, at least for a couple of minutes."

"Good." He smiled. "C'mon, we have a valiant quest for baked goods to embark upon."

"Onwards!"


	2. Chapter 2

"…That was _amazing_," Wally breathed several hours later as he and Dick waited for Alfred after the show. "Was that…I mean, did you really used to do that stuff?" he asked reverently. _I know you can do all sorts of cool flips and stuff as Robin, but to do it as a regular person…wow._

"Some of it," the dark-haired boy answered quietly, staring at the wall across the lobby. "They had a few moves I've never seen before, though." _Some of them were better than anything even my parents did,_ he added to himself, his lips pursing slightly. _But it __was__ beautiful. And everyone was still alive at the end, so…there's that._

"Dude, that is _so cool_."

"Yeah, well…thanks."

They both straightened as the butler emerged from the bathroom, a mildly disgusted look on his face. "Well, then. Shall we return to the manor?"

"All right, video games and popcorn!" Wally cheered.

"Sure, Alfred," Dick nodded less ecstatically, still musing on the performance he'd just seen. _I've got to work some of that stuff into Robin's moves. That one sideways throw…if I can get Batman to develop something like that with me, it could be super effective. The baddies would think I was going in one direction, and then I'd go in completely different one…yeah, that would be cool._

The speedster rehashed the entire show on the ride back, still so excited by what he'd seen and the fact that the other boy had once regularly done a similar act that his palaver was almost unintelligible. The young acrobat knew his speed-talking cadence well enough to tell when he should nod along in agreement, but beyond that he was almost glad that he could tune out what was actually being said. Flipping through his program, Dick studied the stats of the performers and tried to match their headshots to the men and women who had flown for the crowd's amusement a short while earlier. Halfway through the booklet he caught something that had escaped his attention before the show, when his excitement had been too high to let him do much more than glance cursorily at the small type.

…_That one group was a family act,_ he almost gasped out loud. _Mother, father, three teenage kids, and an uncle. I…I didn't realize._ Closing the glossy magazine and setting it aside, he turned his head and stared out the window, eyes hot. _They were the best ones, too. I should have known, the one girl looked like she might have been younger than I am…_

Wally finally caught on that his friend's mood was darker than it had been before the show, and his jabbering slowed. "…Hey, bro, what's up?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Huh?" _Crap. I don't want to waste time tonight, we never get to hang out as civilians,_ he chastised himself as he saw the redhead's slightly worried expression. _Just…don't think about it right now. He obviously had a lot of fun; I'll only ruin it for him if I start dragging out all of my issues._ "Nothing. Just…thinking about some of those cool moves, is all. So," he cleared his throat, "what do you want to do when we get back? Movie, video games…?"

"I'm kind of hungry," he shot him a conspiratorial look that Dick knew meant he wanted to mount a search for junk food. He'd briefed the older boy about his newfound intelligence regarding Bruce's Twinkie stash earlier in the evening, and wasn't surprised in the least that finding it was at the top of the speedster's list of things to do during their sleepover.

"I will be sure to provide the pair of you with plenty of snacks for your evening," Alfred assured. Unnoticed by either of the children, he had glanced at his younger charge in the rearview several times during the drive, fully expecting that something in the show might have upset him. _It's a bit miraculous that he can stand to go to such events at all,_ he considered. _Master Wayne has had far more time to recover from his own tragedy, and yet he hasn't set foot in a movie theater in twenty years. _

"You seriously make the best snack platters, Alfred," Wally complimented.

"You say 'platters' because that's your idea of a serving size," Dick joked. "Good thing you live in America, where that's almost normal these days."

"Hey, it works. _Someone_ has to eat everything that you barely pick at, after all."

"I eat," the younger boy defended himself playfully, his stress over the show slipping into the back of his mind to loaf until later. "My idea of dinner just isn't an entire cow, that's all."

"I've never eaten an _entire_ cow in one sitting. Although I did tick off a lot of people at a barbeque last summer when I ate, like, three giant steaks and a bunch of other stuff in one go." Seeing the amusement on Dick's face, he shrugged. "Uncle Barry dragged me to Texas on a training run, and we didn't get back in time for lunch. I don't think I've ever been hungrier in my _life_."

"Rest assured, Mister West," Alfred stated as they pulled up in front of the mansion, "you shan't go hungry this evening."

"I never do when I come here. It's like every time I turn around, bam, food. If I lived here, I'd probably weigh three hundred pounds."

"No you wouldn't, you'd run it off," Dick rolled his eyes as they climbed out of the car.

"…Maybe. I dunno, dude, Alfred's food is amazing. I might never leave the table again."

In the game room a few minutes later, Wally sprawled out on a pile of cushions they'd dragged off of the couch and admired the new ninety-inch television that ate up a good portion of one wall. "…I changed my mind," he announced.

"About what?"

"I'd never leave in front of this TV again. I'd still be eating constantly, but then I could eat and watch movies without stopping."

"What about sleep?"

"What _about_ it? I'd just sleep right here on these cushions," he hugged one. "Sooooft cushions."

"You're a dork," Dick dropped onto the floor beside him, smiling.

"Good thing you are, too, then," he nudged him. "…So," he asked, his voice dropping. "…When does Operation 'find the snack cakes' begin?"

"That's a _terrible_ mission name, Wally. Why don't we just call it Operation Twinkie, since that's what we're looking for?"

"Who cares what it's called? There's sponge cake at stake! Those cream-filled delicacies need to be liberated!"

Dick laughed. "Okay, so here's what I'm thinking. We watch a movie, right, just to kind of get Alfred thinking that we're settled in for the night. Then we mount our search. We're going to have to be _super_ quiet, though," he exaggerated, knowing from experience that his friend had little talent for stealth.

"Where do you think they are?"

"My guess is…Bruce's room."

Wally's eyes bulged. "His _bedroom_? What if he comes home and catches us in there? That's, like, his private space!"

"First of all, he knows we're going to look for the Twinkies. Second, I go in his room all the time. Usually only when he's there, but it's not like it's off limits or something." He considered his friend. "…You still seem a little freaked out."

"Just trying to picture the 'goddamn Batman's' bedroom," he replied, his face squinched up in concentration.

"Do you want a hint?" Dick crossed his arms, well able to imagine what kind of things Wally, who he knew still harbored a vague fear of Batman despite having known him both in and out of costume for three years, might be picturing waiting upstairs.

"Yeah, actually."

"It looks like a place where a perfectly normal person would sleep."

"A perfectly normal person with buttloads of money, you mean."

"Well, yeah, but…it's a bedroom, dude. It's not like he sleeps hanging from the ceiling." The pair exchanged a glance. "…I guess that _would_ be kind of awesome, though, wouldn't it?"

"Uh, yeah. Creepy, but awesome. So…nothing weird, huh?"

"Nope. Besides, people who know nothing about Batman see that room. He'd have to explain anything weird."

"Oh. That makes sense, but…is it wrong that I'm a _little_ disappointed that he doesn't have anything strange up there?"

"I figured you'd be relieved."

"I'm that, too," he promised. "Totally relieved. But…still disappointed."

"Well, you can see it for yourself in a couple of hours," he picked up the remote as Alfred carried in two large trays and set them on the cocktail table a short distance away. "What should we watch?"

"Hmm…something explosion-y?"

They debated back and forth as the Englishman made a few slight adjustments, sent a checking look in their direction, and retreated back to the kitchen. "…Okay, this is to set up our smoke screen," Dick said once they were alone again. "We need something loud enough for him to hear from the hallway, reducing his odds of actually coming in to check on us, but it also can't be something he'd be interested in watching with us."

"Good point. Um…Bond? Didn't you say he told you once that they're totally incorrect and exaggerated?"

"He did, but he still loves them. I swear he has super hearing just for the theme song. It's the same thing as Bruce and detective movies; he complains about the inaccuracies constantly, but he still stops and watches them when he finds them on TV. What we need is something with, like, monsters and stuff. Alfred's not a fan of that."

"…Zombies?" Wally suggested cautiously. "…Are you okay with those? Because I totally get it if you aren't," he added.

"They're fine."

"…Really?" he peered at him.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I just thought…okay, this is stupid, but I thought the whole 'dead people getting up and chasing the living' thing might bug you," he blushed.

"Oh! No. It…it doesn't bother me. I mean…well, dead people don't get back up in real life," he explained softly, fiddling with the buttons on the box in his hand. "That's…that's kind of the whole point. So I can suspend disbelief for zombies without it getting to me too much."

"Aah…I can see that," the redhead nodded. _I still feel kind of bad for bringing it up, though. Besides, I feel like that's something I should have known already. I wish we got more time together, bro._ "So…maybe a Romero marathon?"

"That should keep him repelled for everything but direly necessary refills. Nice idea."

The next hour and a half passed quickly. Once he saw what the boys were watching, the butler maintained his distance just as Dick had predicted he would, coming back in only once to verify that they weren't completely out of food or drink. "…Okay," the smaller child said once the credits had rolled. "Here's my plan. We start the next movie, let it run for about twenty minutes, then head out. You follow me down the hall – make sure you step exactly where I do, the stairs have these creaks that move sometimes – and we sneak into Bruce's bedroom to begin the search. Sound good?"

"Better than anything I'd have come up with," Wally shrugged before pouring a palmful of popcorn into his mouth. "Tho…vere intha befrum do fink thar?"

"I don't know where they are in there. But I _do_ know that Alfred's going to give you a totally soul-melting look if he catches you talking with your mouth full," he warned.

"If he catches us with Twinkies, he'll kill us," the speedster pointed out. "I'll take the look."

"There are things worse than death, Wals. A really nasty Alfred glare is one of them."

During a quiet moment about a half hour into the second film, the door to the game room cracked open just enough to let two figures into the hallway. _Perfect timing,_ Dick thought triumphantly as the sound flared behind the re-sealed portal. _No Alfred in sight, a zombie movie blaring on the TV, and a super-secret mission about to commence. _"Operation Twinkie is a go," he whispered against Wally's ear, receiving a thumbs-up and an excited look in reply.

Perfectly aware of his own shortcomings when it came to silence, the older boy riveted his attention to where the younger let his feet fall as they crept through the house. _I don't get how he can be so freaking __quiet__,_ he marveled as they reached the top of the stairs. _I mean, I know he's lived here for longer than he's known me, but if the creaks move around, how can he tell where they'll be? Does he have all the places that never make noise memorized, or what? It's crazy. Crazy cool, but still crazy._

The redhead hesitated on the threshold of the bedroom for the barest instant, then stepped inside and let Dick shut the door soundlessly behind them. They gave each other a grin, both pleased with their progress. "Okay. Let's get to work. But _be careful_," he advised, moving through the darkness expertly to flip on one of the bedside lights. "You just know he's going to grade us on whether or not he can tell we were in here from anything other than the missing Twinkies."

"…Wait, we're being _graded?!_"

Dick paused and looked back at him. "Isn't it worth it, though, for Twinkies?"

"…Yeah," he admitted. "I just hope they're actually _in_ here somewhere." Bending, Wally stared beneath the dresser. "You're right, though, it _is_ a pretty normal bedroom, except that there aren't any dust bunnies."

"That's Alfred's fault. He's also the reason I think that what we're looking for is going to be someplace really discreet…" He turned slowly, trying to take in the familiar space with fresh eyes. _I wish I had Wally's speed, I could check this place completely in a minute flat,_ he lamented. _I can't just have him do it, he won't think to look the places I would, and having to tell him where to look will make the speed useless, so…I guess we're doing this the hard way._ "Just in case, though, start checking drawers. Maybe see if any of them have a false bottom."

"Sure."

They poked and prodded their way around the room, their frowns deepening as each area they checked turned up nothing. Meeting back at the door, neither spoke for a moment.

"So…any other ideas?" Wally asked hopefully.

"I know where all the other hiding spots are, and there aren't Twinkies in any of them," Dick said, laying out his thoughts. "I suppose it's hypothetically possible that he's got them somewhere else, but I was so certain they'd be in his room." His eyes fell on the bed. "I wonder…"

"The Boy Wonder wonders," the speedster chuckled. "That should be a kid's book."

"Yeah, that would be appropriate," he snorted, falling to his knees and running his fingers lightly across the ornately carved bedstead. "'The Boy Wonder wonders how much longer it will be until he gets a delicious Twinkie.' 'The Boy Wonder wonders how many more weeks it will be before Joker busts out of Arkham and starts his _n_th killing spree.' 'The Boy Wonder wonders if tonight's patrol will be his last.' That'll sell like hot cakes."

"…Dude, you don't seriously think that every time before you go on patrol, do you?" Wally asked, eyes wide. "Because that's…that's really sad. And scary." _I know crime's really bad here, but jeez, Dick. That's almost morbid, thinking that._

_Good job, Grayson. Make him worry about you with a stupid comment. _"I don't know. I guess maybe I do sometimes. I was also sort of exaggerating. But more importantly," he pronounced as he pushed a tiny wooden leaf to the side and slid back a secret panel, "I give you…Twinkies!" _So quit thinking about what I just said and stuff your face, okay? I wasn't trying to freak you out._

For the space of a second, Wally didn't leap for the snack cakes. _You know, bro, sometimes I wish there was a way I could get you out of Gotham. I mean, sure, there's a certain level of 'I could die tonight' regardless of where you're working, but at least at home we don't get shot at five and six times a night. You just said that so…flatly. Like it's not even a big deal to you that you think that way. _He shook himself. _Don't. Don't think about him...getting hurt,_ he improvised. _We all get hurt on the job, but he was just being dramatic. Playing it up. Exaggerating. He said so himself, so…yeah._ Something still twisted in his stomach, but he managed to ignore it for now. "…The quest is complete!" he thrust his fist into the air. "Now, for the feast!"

Beaming, they tore into the box and divided the spoils. Perched on the edge of the mattress, Dick considered the five packages in his hands. "…Oh, crap," he said suddenly.

"Hwa?" came back, the word weaving through the sticky glob the speedster was breaking down with his teeth.

"You remember that they stopped making these, right?"

"Yeah," he swallowed. "It was pretty much the saddest day of my life when I heard that. But Uncle Barry said they're coming back by summer, so no big deal, right?"

"But what if they change the recipe or something?"

Wally almost choked. "Dude, don't jinx it!"

"Sorry, I just…what if they do?"

"You mean…these could be the last _real_ Twinkies that we ever eat?"

"…Yeah."

"Whoa." His chewing slowed, and he wore a beatific look as the bite slid down his throat. "This is the best thing I've ever had in my mouth."

"Wait until you get to the last one." _No wonder Bruce was so adamant about my leaving him one. Why didn't he remind me that this could be the last box? I wouldn't have gone after them at all if I'd known that…_

"Maybe…we shouldn't be…eating these," the redhead said painfully, reading his friend's hesitation. "You know?"

"Yeah, that's…that's kind of what I was thinking."

"But…what if we just took half of them, and split those, and left the other half of the box for Bruce? Does that seem fair? I mean, he did refuse to tell you where they were, and if we get caught by Alfred we're going to be in totally huge amounts of trouble, so I think we still deserve a reward of some kind."

"So he'd still have five?" He pondered that for a moment. "Okay. I think that's a good idea. We get a prize, and he gets five times more Twinkies than he asked me to save him. Everybody wins."

"One and a half left," Wally said seriously as he considered the empty plastic wrapper in his hand.

"Two."

"Huh? No, I ate a whole one already."

"Yeah, but you can have my half of one. I can never eat more than two in a row, anyway. They make my teeth hurt."

"Bro, seriously?" the speedster asked. "You're going to let me have your half of the last Twinkie? For real?"

"Go for it," he nodded, tucking four golden cakes back into their box and replacing them in the hidden cabinet. The fifth he placed squarely in the middle of his guardian's pillow, a clear signal that the hiding spot had been breached. "I'm going to put one of mine in my room for later," he announced, stretching as he moved towards the door. "You coming?"

Wally took one last look around. _Batman has a normal bedroom, except that he keeps Twinkies in a secret compartment in his bed. That's __so__ weird…I wonder where I can get a bed with a secret junk food cabinet in it?_ "Yeah," he nodded finally."Let's go enjoy the spoils of war."


	3. Chapter 3

Not even a Twinkie high could last forever, and by two in the morning Dick was exhausted. Wally was beginning to have trouble avoiding yawns, as well, and in accordance with Bruce's insistence that his son's regular weekend bedtime be adhered to the pair headed to bed. The idea of the speedster sleeping in a guest room or on the floor never occurred to them; they saw each other so rarely that each moment was precious, and it was much easier to whisper and joke until they fell asleep if they were under the same covers.

Despite his advanced level of tiredness, however, Dick couldn't sleep. Once the older boy had passed out and begun to fill the room with quiet snoring, the younger stopped trying to join him and merely stared up at the ceiling. _I wish I knew why I feel so mixed up about tonight,_ he mused. _The show was great, like Wally said. The family act bothered me for the obvious reasons, but…what about the rest of it? _The fact that some of the tricks they'd seen were completely new to him, he supposed, was part of it. _…So I'm jealous? But I know how they did those moves, I could tell just from watching. With a little practice, I should be able to manage a pretty good imitation, at least. So there's no point in being jealous, really. _

When that realization failed to quell the unnamed emotions that were making his chest tight, he gave a quiet sigh. _I don't know what it is. I wish Bruce were home; he could help me figure it out._ He glanced over at the slumbering redhead. _Wally's no detective, but he'd at least lend a sympathetic ear. I don't want to wake him up, though. Alfred would listen, too, but he's probably asleep down in the den, waiting for Bruce to get home from his business thing. Crap._

Rolling noiselessly out of bed, Dick padded over to the window and crawled up onto the padded seat. Earlier, the sky had been obscured by a flat, gray blanket of clouds that not even a highly active imagination could have found anything interesting in. Since the end of the show, however, the cover had cleared off, leaving a vast starscape overhead. "…Whoa," the boy muttered. _…Maybe __that__ will help me think_, he struck upon an idea. Glancing over his shoulder make sure that Wally was still unconscious, he slipped a sweater on over his pajamas and climbed out to the gently sloping roof, leaving the sash up just a crack so that he could get back inside.

The night air was comfortingly cool as he lay down and stared upwards. During his earliest weeks at the manor, Bruce had taken him up to the rarely-used third floor and let him look through the large telescope that resided there. One of the perks of their remote location, he had explained that night, was that there were no city lights to interfere with stellar viewing. _I wonder why we haven't been back up there in such a long time,_ he pondered as he named the constellations he could see. _Maybe he figures that since I had to memorize so many stars during my initial Robin training I'd be bored with it. But that telescope is cool. I should ask if we can go back up there sometime…_

As entrancing as the tiny, distant lights were, though, they could only hold his attention for so long before his thoughts slipped back to his earlier quandary. _Why__? Why was I so unsettled by seeing new moves by other aerialists?_ He frowned, considering what he'd just said. _New__ moves. Maybe…maybe that's it._ Sitting up, he put his chin on his knees and gazed across the dark lawn towards the forest. _New__ moves. Mom and dad had been all over the globe doing trapeze, so they must have known about every trick in the book. There aren't that many fliers in the world; even if we won't outright share a move we've developed, it's pretty hard to keep one completely secret for long. But I'd never even heard some of the things I saw tonight be described before, and mom and dad pounded info about trapeze into my head the way Batman pounds in villain profiles. What are the odds that they missed that many routines, let alone that one particular group of acrobats was holding on to them? Really low, I would think._

Shifting as the rough shingles dug into his backside, he tried to recall everything he'd read about the performance team from that evening. _…They haven't even been around that long,_ he remembered. _I think that one article I read said they were founded four years ago. So…right around the time they died. In that case, unless someone who joined them had a bunch of moves they'd been perfecting and keeping secret, there's no way mom and dad __missed__ knowing about them._ His face froze as he realized what was going on. _…They didn't know about them, and couldn't tell me about them, because they didn't exist when they were alive. Those were tricks that got developed __after__ they died._ His eyes were suddenly heavy with tears. _…Everyone moved on without them, just…just like I did. In another six months aerialists around the globe will probably be using some of the new stuff I saw tonight, if they aren't already. And then they'll come up with more new moves, other passes that mom and dad never heard about…_

It was a hard thing to come to understand that, despite the great respect his parents' names had commanded in the acrobatics world at the time of their deaths, the community had moved on without them. Hot courses of liquid drove suddenly down his cheeks as he absorbed that fact. _I should have known this would happen. I should have thought about the fact that aerialism would keep evolving, whether they were part of it or not. It hurts, though. It hurts to know that other people have picked up innovating where they left off, and that now they're doing things better, and prettier, and…and…and they aren't even here to see it, but they would have loved it. They could have done those tricks so __perfectly__…_

He dissolved into sobs, and that was how Wally found him a short while later; arms crossed over his head, eyes tight against his kneecaps, shaking with upset. _Whoa,_ the speedster was taken aback when he spotted him through the window. "…Dick?" he asked, climbing out the window and reaching forward to touch his shoulder gently. "Hey, what's up?"

"W-wally?" came back, distraught eyes and a sad pout making the tiny stutter all the more heartwrenching as he looked over.

"Yeah, bro," the older boy threw an arm across his back and settled down beside him. "You okay?"

"'M sorry, I just…was thinking about the show tonight," he shook his head, trying to collect himself. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I only woke up because you weren't there. It kind of freaked me out a little. So…what's going on?"

"It's nothing," he whispered. "It's stupid."

"…Is it about your parents?" he guessed.

_Ah, crap. _"Y-_yes_," his tears renewed. A second long arm joined the first, and the redhead sat without speaking, simply holding him until he quieted again. "I just…I just realized something tonight, that's all," he explained slowly.

"What was it?"

"Well…you remember when I said there were some moves the aerialists did tonight that I'd never seen before?"

"Yeah?" he frowned.

"It was weird," he sniffled. "It was weird because we're all pretty up on which moves are popular at any given time, and who's working on what kinds of new stuff. I mean, there aren't a whole lot of professional aerialists out there, you know? We kind of keep in touch. Kept in touch," he corrected himself with a wince. "So, it wouldn't have been so strange if they'd had like one or two things I'd never seen before, but…there were a lot more than that. Some of it was stuff that I could tell was just an exaggeration of something I've done before, but some of it was totally new."

"So…that upset you?"

"Well, yeah. It did. It…it made me realize that…that everything's changed. I knew that, obviously, but I hadn't really thought about how it applied outside of my own world. But there are whole new sequences being performed that mom and dad never imagined, and...and someone else must have taken their place on the ladder, you know? They were two of the best, Wals, they _really_ were, and…and I just never thought about the fact that other people would pick up where they left off, being amazing – being better than them, even – and coming up with all this new stuff, and…" He trailed off, wiping at his face. "Anyway, I…it just upset me. I'm okay now," he swallowed hard.

_Yeah, you sound just fine,_ the teen scoffed mentally. "…Dude, you're a terrible liar when you're sad. Did you know that?"

Giving a choked little laugh, Dick dug his head in against Wally's shoulder. "Guess I'll have to work on it," he said quietly. "…And on some other things. If _anyone_ is going to be the best aerialist in the world, it needs to be a Grayson. I can't just let their legacy die with them."

"…Are you kidding?" the older boy gaped. "You said that like you don't believe that you already _are_ the best in the world."

"That one kid tonight was better than I ever was on a trapeze," he argued. "…And she looked younger than I was when…when I stopped."

But Wally was shaking his head in a violent denial. "No way. For one thing, _I_ thought she was older than I am. Some people just look way younger than they really are. For another, I didn't see _her, _or anyone else for that matter, do a quadruple somersault the whole night. Did you?"

Dick glanced at him, a tiny grin drawing across his lips. "…No. She managed a triple, but she only did it once and she wasn't moving fast enough to have even thought about getting a fourth rotation in there."

"See? You do those like they're easier than walking, so…whatever. Don't get me wrong, it was an awesome show, but once you've seen Robin up close and personal, everything else kind of pales." He paused. "Besides, you _already _come up with new stuff all the time. I mean, how many of Robin's moves did _you_ invent, or at least modify from something Batman taught you?"

"…Most of them," he admitted. "The aerial assaults, at least."

"And you're gonna work in some of that new stuff you saw, right?"

"Yeah. I've…I've got a few ideas already," he admitted.

"So what the heck are you _worried_ about, bro? Seriously. I know it sucks that those people tonight can't ever know this, but…" He shrugged. "A Grayson still _is_ the best aerialist in the world. I kind of doubt there was ever a lag there. I mean, the stuff you showed me the first night we met was easily as good as what those other people did, and it's not like you've gotten worse with practice."

"Yeah, but…I don't know. I guess part of it too was just…kind of missing the crowd. I feel selfish saying that, but…I remembered, watching them up there, what it felt like to hear all those people cheering for you." His face darkened. "…No one cheers for us, Wally, not really. People appreciate it when we save their lives or stop a bad guy, but they're just as quick to turn on us if they think we did something wrong. Even if it was something we had to do to get the job done, the public doesn't see that. Do you know what happens when an aerialist has to go to net during a performance?"

"…No. What happens?"

"Well, I've only seen it a couple of times, but…there's this big gasp, because even with the net there you…you never _know_ it's going to hold." He gulped, shoving away bad memories in order to finish his story. "…And then, when they sit up and wave to show that they're okay, everyone in the audience claps and cheers. Even if the performer didn't get a single move completed, everybody claps, because they're okay, and because they at least _tried_ something that ninety-nine percent of the people in the audience never could." He shook his head. "You try to entertain, and you fail, and people clap. You save lives, and maybe you didn't even really fail, but your name gets spat on by the very people you risk your skin to protect anyway." A heavy sigh escaped him. "I…I just miss being the one everyone's cheering for sometimes."

"I know it isn't much, but…_I'm_ always cheering for you," the redhead told him quietly. "And you know Bruce is, and Alfred, and Superman, and probably everyone else in the JLA. We're not a whole crowd or anything, but…we think you're pretty awesome. Even if you _are_ kinda short," he teased.

Dick laughed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm a midget. I get it, thanks." He fell silent for a minute. "…But seriously, Wally. Thanks. I…I don't feel like I even need other friends when I'm with you."

"Yeah, I'm pretty fantastic," he smirked.

"I see you haven't hurt your ego on patrol recently."

"Nope. And whenever I need a boost, I just come hang out with you."

"You say that now. Let's see how your ego is after I kick your butt playing Halo tomorrow after breakfast."

"Is that a challenge?"

"That's a _threat_."

"If the pair of you don't get to bed, you won't be awake to play anything until after lunch," a deep but unusually soft growl interrupted them. They turned, still huddled together, to find Bruce standing in the window with his arms crossed. "It's almost four in the morning. That's even past _your_ bedtime, Wallace." He'd slipped into the bedroom to check on the boys just as Wally was settling down next to Dick outside, and upon hearing them talking had decided to eavesdrop. _I knew __something__ about his parents was likely to be triggered by tonight's show,_ he'd sighed as his son expounded on his feelings. _I'm sorry, kiddo. I wanted to be there for this very reason… _Still, though, he had to admit that the other child did an admirable job of comforting him by simply listening. _Thank you, Wally. Letting him tell you who he is in real life may have been one of the best decisions I've made._

Wally cringed at the use of his full name. "…Sorry."

"Yeah, sorry," Dick nodded. "It was my fault, not Wally's. I'm the one who climbed out onto the roof."

"I'll let it slide this time," the billionaire said as they slid back into the room. "But _only_ because you left me a Twinkie."

"…We left you five, actually," his son stated, stopping beside him as the speedster tumbled back into bed.

Bruce glanced between them a bit suspiciously. "...Is something wrong with them?" he frowned.

"No. We just didn't think it was fair to eat all but one of the last Twinkies that may ever enter the house."

"You know they're bringing them back, right?"

"Sure. But what if the new company changes the recipe?"

The man blanched, clearly not having considered that. "…It wouldn't be the first time a buy-out led to changes in a signature item," he confessed. "…When did you become a corporate strategy expert, anyway?"

"The key word in that question is _strategy,_" Wally threw in from halfway across the room. "He's, like, the new Napoleon. His plan was what got us past Alfred to the Twinkies."

"I've even got the height to be a new Napoleon," Dick said bashfully. "…But I don't think I'd be a very good dictator."

"Let's keep it that way," Bruce ruffled his hair. "And you'll be taller than Napoleon before too much longer. Just do me a favor; if you get yourself banished to an island, try and make it a tropical one. I'd hate to have to come visit you in, say, Svalbard. That's a bit colder than I prefer my vacation destinations to be. Now," he gave him a proud smile, turning slightly so that it wasn't visible from the bed. "Go to sleep," he cupped his cheek briefly. "Alfred agreed to make a big brunch at eleven. I'll see you both then."

"…Brunch?" Wally perked up.

"_Eleven_," the billionaire said firmly from the doorway. "Goodnight, boys."

"Night," they replied simultaneously.

"…Hey, Wally?" Dick ventured a moment later as he snuggled in next to him.

"Mm-hmm?"

"Do you really think I'm like Napoleon?"

"I can't name a single plan of yours that hasn't worked out. So…yes. You're a…what do you call it…a double threat. Acrobatics and tactics, that's you."

"I don't think Napoleon was an acrobat," the younger boy yawned.

"Well, I guess that makes you _better_ than him, you compliment whore."

"'_Compliment whore?'_ And I was going to let you win a couple rounds when we play later, too," he grinned, poking him in the ribs. _…I feel a lot better now. Thanks, Wals._

"We'll see who lets who win. I've been practicing."

"Oh, well, if your Halo playing is as good as your stealth, now…"

"Ooh, low blow. What about my ego?"

"Hey, Wally?"

"Yeah, bro?" A small fist popped up above the covers, hovering as it waited for its other half. The redhead grinned, then bumped it lightly. "…Okay, okay. My ego is sated." _Hell, whose __wouldn't__ be, with you as a best friend?_ _I must be doing something right to have earned that label._

"Good. Let me know if you need another one. I've got an unending supply." He smiled in the dark. "But don't worry. I'll save them all for you."

**Author's Note: I hope you all enjoyed a little romp with our favorite bros! 'Causalities' will pick up again tomorrow, for those of you following that story. Happy reading!**


End file.
